Advice
by societallyDysfunctional
Summary: Canada visits France's house to ask for romantic advice, France is crestfallen. He also has absolutely no idea who the advice is for. (the story is way better than the summary I promise)


France really hadn't expected anything more than an uneventful day when he heard a timid knock on the door.

At first he thought he had imagined it, or that it was just his foot hitting the table. When he heard the faint sound again, he reluctantly pushed himself off the couch and walked to the door, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He turned the knob and pulled the door open, expecting some flyer or package. Instead he found a very nervous-looking Canada, who was shuffling his feet and staring at his toes. His head snapped up when he heard the door open, meeting France's eyes with his own blue-violet ones. France could've sworn his heart skipped a beat.

Not that France would _ever_ admit it, not even to himself, but he was smitten with Canada. Entirely, utterly, completely smitten with the shy boy. He couldn't understand how the other countries just _overlooked_ him. That, or they thought he was his obnoxious twin brother. _How_, exactly they did that, France really couldn't figure out. Canada was just the sweetest person he'd ever met, always apologizing for what seemed like his own existence. The way his eyes shone and his face lit up whenever anyone acknowledged his presence was so endearing to France. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that no one else could see the beauty in Canada's shy sweetness.

France quickly blinked himself out of his daydreams and remembered that Canada was _standing in his doorway_.

"_Bonjour, mon ami_!" France said, "What brings you here to _ma maison_ today?"

"Well, uh," Canada answered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and refusing to meet France's eyes, "I kind of, um, need some advice."

"Is that so? You might as well come inside then. It seems like this might take a while." Canada nodded quickly and followed France inside, softly shutting the door behind him. France sat down on the couch.

"So, what is it that you need my advice on?" France inquired. Canada grimaced before speaking.

"Romance," he replied softly, thoroughly embarrassed. France's heart sank. "Look, I'm really sorry for bothering you about this, it's just that—"

"Ah! Why didn't you say so? You can always ask me for help with anything! Especially about _l'amour_," France said cheerily, hiding his true emotions. "What exactly is your problem?"

"Well, I kind of, um, like this—person—see, and I don't know what to do. I mean I think I _really_ like them, and I honestly don't know how they feel towards me. I mean they notice me and I guess they act _somewhat_ differently towards me but—ugh!" Canada buried his face in his hands.

"First thing's first, I couldn't help but notice that you keep saying 'they.' Would this person happen to be a man? You do know I won't judge you, _cher_, I am extremely open on these matters." Canada nodded his head miserably, face still hidden. France briefly considered giving Canada bad advice so the younger country wouldn't succeed in his romantic advances, then he scolded himself. That would have been very unromantic of him, and it wasn't _Canada_'s fault he had fallen for another man. It certainly wasn't his fault that France had fallen for _him_. Besides all of that, giving Canada bad advice because of his own feelings would have been just being a horrible friend. Even if Canada couldn't love France, it didn't mean they couldn't stay friends. In the end, France tried to tell Canada what he would do.

"Well, If I were you I would just tell him," France said rather hypocritically, seeing as he had never told Canada, "And not only that. You have to _show_ him that you mean it, in your own way. I can't tell you how to do that, because everyone would do it differently. Some would send anonymous poems, others will put candies on another's seat on Valentine's Day. You have to find your own way to show them that you really do love them. Did that help at all?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Canada said, his wonderfully violet eyes meeting France's for an instant. His breath caught in his throat, and France had to use all of his willpower to tear his gaze away. Canada continued, seemingly oblivious, "The 'show them in your own way' part might cause me a bit of trouble, but really, that was so much help. Thank you so much, France! Sorry again for bothering you about this." Canada got up to leave.

"It's fine, _mon ami_. Anytime you need help, you can come straight here, okay?" France offered, opening the door. Canada nodded faintly, then turned, stepped off France's porch, and walked down the path, a slight skip in his hesitant steps. France only closed the door after he saw Canada turn the street corner; he had never once looked back.

_Whoever Canada is in love with truly is lucky,_ France thought sadly, _I hope he doesn't break that boy's heart._ France sat down on the couch dejectedly and rested his head on his arms, wallowing in his own sorrow. He just hoped that it wasn't another country; France wouldn't have been able to bear it if Canada and the lucky man came into the next meeting acting like sweethearts.

—

France had only been sulking for a little more than half an hour when he heard a knock on his door.

"Leave it on the doorstep!" France called, assuming it was some sort of package.

He heard another knock, this one louder and more insistent. France groaned and hoisted himself off the couch, opening the door and glaring. He nearly froze when he saw who was standing on his doorstep.

"C-Canada?" France stuttered, "But—"

"Before you say anything," Canada cut him off, "I know this is cheesy, and I know it's stupid. I just couldn't ask anyone else for advice because you're the only one who notices me.

"Anyway, I really really like you France. It might even be love; I don't know. All I know is that I need to tell you before you get together with someone who probably deserves you more. I also wanted to give you two things. This," Canada removed his hands from behind his back and offered France a white iris. Canada might have been the only one who knew that France's favorite flower was not, in fact, a rose, but an iris. "I don't know if you know the language of flowers, but an iris is for—"

"Hope," France finished.

"I've been hoping all this time that maybe, just maybe, you liked me back. I figured it wasn't hope_less_ because you actually _see_ me, but it was still kind of far-fetched. I still don't know if you like me," Canada continued, "But I also wanted to give you this."

France was about to ask what exactly Canada was going to give him, seeing as he was now empty-handed, but the words never left his mouth. Canada had scrunched his eyes shut, bent down slightly, and pressed his soft lips gently to France's own. France let his eyelids flutter shut, and marveled in the kiss he had awaited for so long. Canada was, of course, dreadfully inexperienced, (_I'll need to work on that~_ France thought), but the sheer sweetness and _love_ Canada had put into the kiss was nearly enough to make France swoon. He was slightly dazed when Canada pulled away, eyes glazed and words left unsaid caught in his throat. Canada turned his head to the side, not wanting to meet France's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I just had to tell you. I'll go now, you can just forget this happened," Canada said, turning to walk away.

"No! Canada, wait!" France said, wrapping his fingers lightly around Canada's wrist, forcing him to turn back around and face him. "I like you, too. I couldn't bring myself to say it, not after finding out that you liked another man."

"Oh. You thought that I… Oh. I can see why you'd think that, yes." Hope flashed in Canada's violet eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"What were you planning on doing now?" France asked.

"Well, um… I actually didn't think I'd get this far," Canada replied honestly, "I kind of assumed that you'd just, you know, ignore me for the rest of my life or something. I don't know."

"How about we head to the coffee shop around the corner, then? If you didn't have anything planned," France offered. Canada nodded happily.

"I'd like that," he said softly, a smile lighting up his violet eyes. France grinned and shut the door behind him.

"Let's go!" France entwined his fingers with Canada's, leading the way down the street. "Oh, and do not _ever_ apologize for falling in love with someone. Especially _moi_." France laughed and kissed Canada's cheek. They continued walking hand in hand and smiling like sappy fools, not caring who saw. France couldn't have imagined a better day.

* * *

_A/N: I am sorry for crappy ending ;-; Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! I really love this pair, and it doesn't get nearly enough attention as it should. I get that they're really out of character, I just really like the idea of France pining after Canada (yes, France, you were pining), and Canada making the first move. Sorry if you don't agree. Please review if you liked the story, I love reading your reviews. They make me so happy._

_~Rebecca_

_P.S. Never, I repeat, _never _ use that romantic advice under _any_ circumstances. I cannot give romantic advice therefore neither can the characters in my fanfictions. I am sorry if you need romantic advice, but do not use this in real life. Sorry._


End file.
